Not Now, Not Never
by WorstCaseScenario
Summary: Small moments where one can't stay and one won't leave.


Title: Not Now, Not Never

Author: WorstCaseScenario (Taudi on LJ)

Rating:PG-13

Pairing(s):Kakashi/Iruka

Summary: Small moments where one can't stay and one won't leave.

Contains [warnings]: mentions of sex.

Word Count: 2.947

Author's Notes: Written for the summer round of 2010 for the Kakairu_fest on Live Journal. Thanks to Kat and Marc for betaing even though they had their own busy schedules, and my parents for being awesome and actually read my stories. Yes, that means my dad too.

* * *

**Not Now, Not Never  
**

"You shouldn't come here," Iruka says, the repeated sentence falling easily from his lips. Like always the only answer is the sound of his front door closing and a low grunt of indifference. Expecting nothing else Iruka lazily looks back out the grimy window. He listens with half an ear to Kakashi's lethargic bustling around the apartment, the sound of soft rustling a sign of Kakashi undressing. He crosses the room heading for the bedroom, his vest landing on the old table with a solid _thunk_. He doesn't get up from his cramped spot on the windowsill. Kakashi won't talk to him and he won't listen to Iruka either. He's too tired to waste energy on a lost cause. So he stays seated, letting his mind wander.

A subtle flickering of light catches Iruka's attention and he watches Kakashi in his task, to light candles in strategic places, around the room. They both know it's not necessary but Iruka doesn't have the strength to protest this time, it falls on deaf ears anyway.

The jounin walks up to him, his muscle hard body shadowing Iruka from the candlelight.

"One more night," he says and reaches out his hand to touch the scar crossing a tan straight nose. Iruka twists his head out of reach, lowering his eyes to the windowsill so he can't see the rejected flicker in Kakashi's eye. The lit candles are poor substitutes for the warmth Iruka has missed for a long time.

"You've said that every night."

Kakashi crouches down instead of looming over Iruka, the jounin's knuckles turning white from the hold they have on the edge of the window sill. Iruka knows he's trying not to touch him. He isn't sure he likes the consideration.

"I remember when your kiss burned like fire." Iruka can easily hear the hint of longing and it hurts all the way into his bones but he does nothing. He's too hurt to do anything and he doesn't appreciate Kakashi's attempt to create old memories. It's only making the gap between them deeper but he will always love Kakashi, and now they were trapped in a vicious circle of denial. He watches as the copy nin stands from his knees and walks stiffly back to the bedroom shutting the door, with more force than necessary, behind him.

Iruka stays doesn't follow.

-x-

"Because I fell in love with _you,_" Iruka snaps. He feels his cheeks flush with heat from his frustration of not being able to reach the man that stands before him.

Kakashi takes a sudden step forward; face now inches from Iruka's.

"Exactly", he says with an odd tone Iruka can't identify. "You fell in love with _me_, with the person I am. So why do you think you need to fix me... To fix something usually means there's something wrong." Iruka stares into a cold grey eye, Kakashi's warm breath lightly caressing lips. He doesn't move when the jounin traps him against the wall hands on either side of Iruka's head, faintly showing who were the stronger of the two. Iruka feels like one of the dust particles he distinguishes in the flickering light, insignificant small and easily swayed.

"Is there something wrong with me, Iruka?"

"No", he says silently, defeated, "you're just broken".

Kakashi jerks away harshly, looking like he has been slapped, the air around him tense with the unsteady beat of his chakra, a symbol of his unbalance. Iruka had never thought him more beautiful.

"You shouldn't come here anymore, Kashi", Iruka hopes his voice sounds soft and soothing but it's difficult to hear above the echoing slam of the door.

-x-

The smell of bad instant ramen wafts around in the stale air. Kakashi sit cross legged, hunched over a small grey bowl, with faded decorations of bamboo that had seen better days. His otherwise graceful motions with chopsticks is replaced by awkward and jerky movements, dropping at least half of the slippery noodles before they even make it all the way to his mouth. Iruka follows it all with his eyes quietly and slightly annoyed by the small out of tune clicking.

"You should eat something with more sustenance," he says finally. Kakashi sends Iruka a pointed look that clearly states it's his fault he's now choking on lukewarm broth. The jounin lets the chopsticks fall from slender fingers trailing one of them, when it goes astray to the floor, after hitting the bowl. He doesn't make any move to pick it up. Iruka sighs but he doesn't make any move either even though his fingers start to twitch.

"You won't cook for me anymore", the jounin sounds petulant. Iruka sighs again.

"It's not like I don't want to, you know". The chuunin simply watches as Kakashi unconsciously licks the left corner of his mouth, with the tip of a tongue. It had always been a habit of his and in winter it made the spot sore and red, even with the mask on. Iruka remembered quiet moments where he would apply cooling aloe vera cream, with a thumb, all the while chiding the bad habit. It only made the great copy nin laugh and start licking the corner of Iruka's own mouth.

"Stop that, Kakashi."

The thump of Kakashi's elbows landing heavy on the table resounds in the room. His head is buried in his hands, fingers gripping the soft silver hair tightly.

"Shut up, Iruka... just shut up."

And Iruka does.

-x-

"Go home, Kakashi"

As expected there's no response from the lithe form reclining on the dust filled, marine coloured, rug in the middle of the living room. The low table has been pushed aside in favour for a spot in the late afternoon sun. Kakashi is stretched out one leg bent at the knee and swaying lightly from side to side, standard uniform pants and gloves the only article of clothing. His head is turned away from Iruka, giving a clear view of a tender neck and the steady beat of a pulse under the skin. A worn Icha Icha is resting on Kakashi's toned stomach in a loose grip of fingers, a thumb marking the page he's reached. He's the picture of relaxation and laziness. Iruka knows better.  
The chuunin is sitting with his back against the wall, the exact same place he sat in when Kakashi came through the door, both knowing he shouldn't be there but as always Iruka caved in. Iruka tilts his head back studying the once overstuffed wall with a bit of sadness. He doesn't like plain walls.

"I have no home," Iruka jolts in surprise, though it is said in a whisper. He open eyes he hadn't realized were closed; Kakashi's is still facing away from him. Black spots blemish the scarred skin of his chest and shoulders, shadows from the grimy window, Iruka realize. He can't remember when he last cleaned them. The days have a way of blending together and it gives him a feeling of being left behind.

"Of course you have a home," he says at last, _it's just not here anymore _hangs solemnly in the air. Kakashi's breath hitches, his chest rising and falling a tad bit faster. He still won't look at Iruka. "You spend all your free time here. Don't you think someone has noticed?"

"How would you know?"

Iruka flinches but stops himself from telling Kakashi he hadn't meant for things to go this way. It won't do any good anyway. Iruka wished Kakashi would turn his head and look at him, seek the comfort he is trying to find by coming here. Iruka wished it didn't have to be intertwined with the deep pain Kakashi willingly puts himself through. Iruka wishes for a lot of things, actually, but of course they never come true.

"I'm lost, Ruka," and he sounds like it, too. Voice raw, exposing the tears he doesn't want Iruka to notice.

"Don't say that," Iruka whispers.

"Why? Because it's true or because you know it's your fault?" it's said cold, straight forward, bruising Iruka with its truthfulness. He forgot the jounin could do that. "You should turn off the porch light, if you're so against taking in strays."

"That's not fair, Kashi. You know I can't do that"

Kakashi stays silent.

Iruka wished he could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin.

-x-

Iruka sits on the floor at the threshold to the bathroom, watching Kakashi stitch the wound on his forearm back together. His steady movements and the bored expression on his face the sign of how common this is for him. Iruka can't hide the twitch at the corner of his eye, every time the needle pierces pale skin.

"You should go to the hospital", Iruka says. His eyes skim around the familiar room with green tiles on the walls, a shower big enough for two, the sink is an odd dark grey colour but it matches the floor tiles and doesn't show the old traces of blood. Not like the walls. Every cell in Iruka itches to clean the red handprint, clearly visible because of the contrast, on the wall opposite him. It marked the spot where Kakashi had leaned heavily before sliding down to the floor.

"You usually do this," Kakashi says muffled, finishing up, one end of the thread held between clenched teeth stringing it tight while he makes the final knots. Iruka runs a finger along the wood at his knee, scrunching his nose a little when it's covered in dark dust.

"I know. You have to find someone else to do it now." It's not like Iruka is especially keen on that but Kakashi isn't even suppose to be here.

Kakashi stays seated on the tiled floor watching Iruka through a half lidded eye, the Sharingan firmly closed. Iruka can't remember the last time he saw it and he kind of misses the fascinating feature, which was both Kakashi's strength and weakness.  
The times Kakashi had come back from a mission, chakra depleted and bruised, he would sit on the bed alongside him, holding a cold wet cloth on the closed eye either keeping watch, while he slept, or telling unimportant stuff about the days they hadn't shared. And when he sensed Kakashi was relaxed and comfortable he would kiss the scar bisecting Kakashi's eyelid feeling the damp and damaged skin under his lips. Iruka drags himself out off the pool of memories he can't replace with new ones.

"Remember the time one of your brats activated some kind of flashing scroll in front of you?" His voice is gruff, tired, the wounded arm limp in his lap, discarded uniform and bloodied bandages surrounding him. Iruka just nods and Kakashi continues.

"It made you extremely sensitive towards bright light. You were so cute, squinting at everything around you." The smile on his lips seems almost genuine.

"You covered all the windows and lit the whole apartment with candles," Iruka states, which was the only light that didn't make Iruka's eyes water or his head throb, and it had made Kakashi seem otherworldly as he became all curves and shadows and Iruka had happily thanked him by spreading his legs.

"Come back, Ruka... please just come back to me." Kakashi's voice is wet affected by the steady stream of tears spilling from his own steely grey eye.

Iruka's head spins and he has to look away from the devastation he sees in Kakashi's eye. Even at a time like this he can't help but wonder why his own tears can't be seen on the dirty floor.

-x-

He appears in a burst of speed the front door still open behind him. At least he doesn't slam it this time which Iruka's grateful for. He doesn't like the sound it makes. It usually means an upset Kakashi walking away to places Iruka can't follow.

"You're leaving me!" Kakashi's voice is laced with bitterness and it makes Iruka speechless, but he can't protest against the statement. Iruka takes a deep breath and exhales slowly trying to maintain some kind of composure.

"Kashi... I..." Iruka stops himself, his throat constricting, fighting the words, "I already left you."

Kakashi is standing before him all tense shoulders and haunted eye, the tips of his hair betraying the trembling of his body. "Don't ever believe you're not worth fighting for", maybe it's hypocritical of Iruka to say but he did fight. He fought with everything he had but it wasn't enough in the end.

"You are everything I want."

"That doesn't mean I'm everything you need." Kakashi goes rigid, jaw visibly clenching under the thin mask looking ashamed. They both know he wasn't the perfect lover, coming home smelling of sickly sweet perfume covered in scratches Iruka's blunt nails were incapable of making, or ignoring Iruka for days to appear unexpectedly and fuck Iruka roughly on the kitchen table.

"I love you," and Iruka knows there are so much more behind those words, _I'm sorry, I adore you, I'd do anything for you, I respect you, I trust you_, and that's why Iruka had lived with the hurt, because for all the death and heartache there had been in Kakashi's life, Iruka was actually proud of being a constant pillar of love and comfort that the jounin could return to no matter what.

"You can't stay here," and Iruka hopes Kakashi can hear the meaning behind them that this is not the right place to relive lost memories. That he can't heal by returning to the thing, which is the cause of his hurting in the first place.

Kakashi growls, his eye burning with anger and defiance. He turns his back on Iruka and walks over to the door just to slam it shut, startling Iruka.

He doesn't go anywhere for what Iruka guesses to be three days.

-x-

Whatever road Iruka had to follow he knew it had to be without Kakashi.

"I'm so tired, Kakashi."

Kakashi sits on the couch fixing the wrappings on his favourite kunais. He stops briefly at the break of silence but doesn't look up. Iruka swallows the lump in his throat ignoring the way Kakashi's hands starts shaking and the hard set of his jaw.

"Let go. You have to let go," Iruka knows he's begging but it's time and they both know it. Kakashi stands abruptly, a cloud of dust whirling up around him from the frayed cushions. He flings the kunai across the room but Iruka doesn't pay attention to where it embeds itself. He raises himself from his place in the corner walking silently over to Kakashi. His mask is bunched around his, hitae ate left forgotten on the table and Iruka sees the tears clearly. The silver haired man falls to his knees in front of Iruka, his arms clutched tight to his chest. His whole body shakes with piercing sobs. "Don't do this," he rasps.

Iruka kneels only a hairsbreadth from the jounin and he can almost smell the intoxicating scent of armour oil and dog hair. He wishes he can cradle Kakashi in his arms like he used to, when the pain became too heavy to bear. All he can do now is sit with Kakashi through this and hope the man can feel his love.

Even though Iruka's sense of time is unclear, he's aware that some time passes by the moving shadows on the floor. He really wished he could clean the windows for those cursed stains. The body wrecking sobs is soon reduced to the occasionally shudder and Iruka can detect some kind of peace.

"Open your eye, Kashi," he says softly. Kakashi shakes his head.

"I can't forget you," he whispers hoarsely, gripping his own arms hard enough to bruise.

"No," Iruka smiles encouragingly, though Kakashi can't see it, "but you'll still move on."

Kakashi lifts his head heavily and allows himself to drown in golden brown eyes and a smile that stretches the adorable scar just a twinge. The last thing he sees before snapping the sharigan eye open is full pink lips forming three words he has always known. He lingers for a while longer; staring at the kunai buried to the hilt in the empty wall and then drags himself from the floor. He gathers what little things he has left in the apartment, stumbling around on unsteady legs. Kakashi scrubs away the tears that's only streaming from his own eye and reaches for the doorknob, twists it, and opens the door. He stops halfway glancing around the small living room.

The place is covered in a thick layer of dust except for the small paths that leads to the kitchen, bath and bedroom and the indents where Kakashi either sat or placed anything. The walls and books cases are empty not the overstuffed, organized chaos it used to be. The far off corner mocks Kakashi with rust like stains, a fine, straight line of brown spatter crossing the windows, some drops running down towards the windowsill before they dried completely. He hadn't let anyone touch the place after most of the things were stored away.

Kakashi draws a deep breath that burns all the way down to his lungs and hides his face behind his mask before turning around to flick the switch besides the doorframe, shutting off the porch light that had been burning constantly for years. A primitive light guiding him home.

He walks out and closes the door silently behind him.


End file.
